


Saturday Night

by a_story_to_share, Em3kitty, picnokinesis



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: As this RP progresses I'll probably change the ratings, Barton is a SPY, Bisexual Peggy Carter, Bisexual Steve Rogers, F/M, Fluff, Hellish Herd, Hellish Herd Discord, Hellish Herd Tumblr, Howard Stark is an asshole, I have a feeling this is going to get dark, Peggy and Steve being cuties, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Civil War (Marvel), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), RP, RP Turned Fic, SO MUCH FLUFF, There's a bit of swearing, This is all your fault, V is a goddamn menace i stg, Young Peggy, barton has hearing aids, goddamit clint, google doc shenanigans, hawkeye has hearing aids, make it so there's less parts but more content, once this is finished it'll probably get a revamp, peggy says fuck, role play, role-play, shit happens, steve says fuck, up the rating goes to T, why'd you have to go and ruin their perfectly sweet little date
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 9,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_story_to_share/pseuds/a_story_to_share, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em3kitty/pseuds/Em3kitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/picnokinesis/pseuds/picnokinesis
Summary: This is a RP between myself and a_story_to_share, with guest appearance from picnokinesis and so we're posting it here. At some point we'll talk further aboutwhythis is all possible, but for now, enjoy some sweet Steggy goodness.





	1. Cover




	2. Peggy

Peggy Carter sat at a quiet table, looking around the softly lit hall. Her fingers tapped gently on the package in her lap to the lively music but she wasn’t paying the band much attention. She couldn’t bear to part with it. The pages were old and worn and faded but they held together too many memories. Her eyes constantly flicked up to the clock on the wall, seven thirty… seven thirty five… seven thirty seven… then to her phone, checking for messages. He would be there, this time. He promised. He would be there. She swallowed down decades of anxious anticipation and put the phone away, looking out at the room again.

Had she picked the right dress? Would she stick out too much in the red? It wasn’t the same one she had in the forties. No, the side slit gave much easier access to her garter holster on this one. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but she cast her eye over the other dancers. They all looked harmless enough. But then that was how they were supposed to look. A few of the lonely men tried to catch her eye but there was only one person she would dance with that night.

Ten to eight, she caught the movement in her periphery.


	3. Steve

The moment Steve stepped into the old bar, the flash of red in the corner of the hall caught his eye, but it was the person in red who caught his breath. The grey-streaked waves were perfectly set. He watched as a wrinkled hand reached for a glass of wine. Sucking in a deep breath he stepped forward, eyes focused on the woman at the booth. She had aged well for 70 plus years...

Steve paused. Should he have worn a suit? He thought meeting her for the first time after so long, a better choice would be his old dress uniform, somehow perfectly preserved. He wouldn't tell anyone, but after landing stateside, he had to disappear after trying to rob the Smithsonian once again. He was a war criminal, and yet why they still had the display up, he'll never know.

Finally sucking in a deep breath, he tugged the edge of his shirt once more, before advancing. Just as he reached the bar, the woman turned, giving him a blinding smile, eyes crinkling in the corner. Steve's heart dropped. It wasn't Peggy.

"S-sorry ma'am, you just reminded me of someone I knew."


	4. Peggy

Peggy's breath caught in her chest. He had certainly risen to the occasion. The Steve Rogers she stared at wasn't the same man who had frozen in the Arctic. This Steve was... _real._ Her hand clutched the package, as though terrified that speaking may break the illusion. She had dreamt of this day for so long but never thought he'd have a beard. It was promising, that one detail, a reminder this was no dream. This was so much better than a dream!

She watched as his eyes fixed on a woman at the bar. The spark made her heart skip a beat. Did he really see her that way? Peggy fought back a smile as he approached the woman who by Peggy's estimate was almost young enough to be their daughter.

His face fell when the woman turned. She didn't catch what they said, a twinkle in her eye as she let out a laugh.


	5. Steve

The light chuckle felt like a cool breeze on a hot summers day. The heat that had been rising up his neck slowly receded as a shiver ran down his spine. To say he'd waited 70 odd years to hear that sound was unfair only to the person to which the laugh belonged. His heart was in his throat as he spun round, eyes frantically scanning the room behind him. He surely would have lost balance if he was back in his pre-serum body; he barely stayed upright as it was.

When he finally caught sight of her it was almost as if he were back in the little unnamed, unremarkable bar in London; unremarkable to everyone except them. Flashes crossed his vision of that day that he recruited his Howling Commandos. His knees were weak, his breath all but gone, as her chocolate gaze met his cobalt blue, he could only find one word to describe her.

_Perfect_


	6. Peggy

The laughter left her lips wanting as he met her eye. For a moment she found herself thinking of the small lad sat beside her in the back of a car giving an impromptu tour of Brooklyn. They had both come so very far yet she still felt her heart melt under his gaze.

Minutes passed, staring, drinking each other in, savouring every second because this wasn't a dream and they would never have this time again.

8 o'clock.

"Hello, Steve," she said. She was surprised by the shake in her voice. Would he hear it? She held his eye as his held her heart. Steve Rogers, alive, breathing, _real_.


	7. Steve

"Hello, Steve,"

His heart stopped. Standing in front of him was a miracle; it was impossible. Yet, somehow he felt this was all a dream. There she was, standing right in front of him, untouched by time. Her curls, as slick and as chocolate as the night in the bar, her eyes, wide with wonder, sparkling in the dimly lit room. Her dress, it was so _red._ His fingers itched for the first time since he came out of the ice, eager to find a notepad and pen. He wanted nothing more than to sketch every miniscule detail of the visionary before him.

Slowly, gently, Steve stepped forward, reaching out to brush an invisible strand of hair from her cheek, his hand resting on the side of her neck as he finally breathed.

" _Peggy._ "


	8. Peggy

Everything stilled. Hearing her name on his lips for the first time since 1945, turning her head into the soft touch of his hand - it was magic. Her fingers reached up, about to brush against his beard but froze millimetres from contact. It would be so easy. His arms were strong and welcoming. His lips were enticing. Her hand slipped lower to feel his heart pounding in his chest. He was so much to take in and-

She pulled her eyes away, taking a glance of the room. None of the other patrons seemed to have paid their moment much notice. Still safe. She let out the breath she held and looked back up at him, a shine of relief in her smile. Nothing would ruin this.

One hand still against his chest, she raised the other with the package. A sturdy leather wallet with his sketchbook inside.

"Here..." she whispered, offering it to him.


	9. Steve

Staring at her lips, it took Steve a moment to register that she was handing something to him. Unable to bring himself to let go, he slipped one hand down to her waist, the other taking the offered wallet, as he leant forward, eyes closing, simply to rest his forehead against hers. Breathing deeply he took his time, simply to revel in her existence, completely oblivious to the people surrounding them.

Finally, opening his eyes, he pulled away, still holding her to him. This would not be just another dream; he had hoped, desired, _craved_ this moment. Unable to lift his voice above a whisper, barely breathing, scared that she were an apparition, waiting for a gentle breeze to simply blow her away.

"You're here. You're really, _here_."


	10. Peggy

If it weren't for his hand on her back she was certain she would have fallen in a heap with her knees about to give way. She stared up at his closed eyes, his forehead against hers. His breath tickled her cheeks. Her nose filled with the scent of him. It was real, so gloriously real! She stared at him in awe until he spoke. This was as magical for him as it was for her. A giddy chuckle grew in her stomach from the long forgotten woman who had the privilege of a boring life. Or perhaps she was giggling at herself. How stupid she had been to almost pass up all of this?!

Someone was watching. Her heart skipped a beat. A threat? No, just one of the other couples. Still, they were starting to get noticed. She needed to keep them safe, they couldn't afford to be noticed.

"Perhaps we should sit?" she murmured. Her cheeks ached a little. It took her a moment to realise, this was the most she had smiled in... far too long. His lips were so close. If he just pulled her that little bit closer they could...


	11. Steve

Taking a step back further, his hand lingering on the small of her back, Steve inhaled deeply, reminding himself to behave. Gently, a crooked smile crossed his face, as he once again studied every line on her face, his fingers twitching for a pen, wanting to immortalise her face, for only his pleasure. There was something in the way her face lit up when she smiled, that he felt that no matter how many times he tried to draw her, nothing could ever be compared to the being in front of him, who could have only been sculpted by Aphrodite herself.

Closing his eyes to collect himself once again, he gestured towards the wall of booths on the far side of the hall. Subconsciously, he glanced at the package still in his hand before turning to the woman tucked into his side.

"Lead the way, doll."


	12. Peggy

Did he just... She blinked. _Doll?_ And that smile she hadn't seen, that sparkle of mischief. She looked around as she smoothly tucked her arm around him. Oh god it felt good to hold him! One arm on his chest, the other at his back, muscle and magic in between. Lead the way, he said. Alright.

In a swift movement she rose to her toes and slipped from his arm, brushing her lips ever so gently against his cheek and striding away to the booth. It gave her a blessed few seconds to hide her crimson blush and look around again. No one new had entered. Their brief display had caught a few looks and a murmur or two, but they were safe. Confidence started to swell deep in her stomach. She gently bit the inside of her lip and chanced a glance back at him over her shoulder. Oh, this would be _fun!_

Don't lose your head! She barked at herself, tearing her eyes away to check the room again. It hurt being stuck on alert, but complacency hadn't gotten her through those years.

Still. It was fun.


	13. Steve

Stunned still, the smile on Steve's face grew wider. Following closely behind Peggy as she led the way to their seats, he was reminded of the last time they had done this. Her leading and him following that was. Back in the bunker in London, the air between the two was so different. Steve couldn't help but suppress a chuckle; the last time they were like this, he'd been kissing _another_ woman. Not one to let the same mistake happen twice, Steve skipped forward half a step, bringing him in line with Peggy, slipping his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together.

There was something so irrevocably _right_ about the way the two of them fit together. If it weren't for her slight heels, Peggy would have been able to slip smoothly under Steve's chin, and in some ways, he was thankful for that little bit of extra height; at least while they were out.

Being led further into the hall, Steve glanced around and noticed the position of the table. When seated, whoever sat would be able to see the door, but from the door, the table would be invisible. Something about this set Steve both at ease and on edge. Sure, he'd be safe, but what had prompted Peggy to choose this table?

Glancing down once more, the smile on her face was enough to put those thoughts aside. At least for now.


	14. Peggy

She glanced at him through her lashes as she felt his hand slip into hers. Squeezing his hand ever so gently, she swore to herself she would never let go. It felt alien to be alive again after two decades without Angie.

_Angie._

Taking in his features as he glanced about (so he still couldn't let down his guard either), her heart panged. Angie would have loved to meet him. Peggy wished that they had the chance. She had told Angie about him, and she knew at some point she would tell Steve all about Angie just... When the moment was right. Right now the moment was right to hold his hand and sit opposite him. One of them could watch the main entrance, the other the emergency exits. No surprises except for whatever they had in store for each other.

As they sat, their hands still remained together on the table. A small tea candle gave the softest warm glow. The leather package sat in his other hand, seemingly forgotten as he had eyes only for her.

"Ten minutes early, I'm impressed," she said, mysteriously breathless despite the distance they had crossed being tiny. But they had crossed it together and that was what mattered.


	15. Steve

The smile slipped off Steve's face as he ducked his head. "Ten minutes early? Try seventy years late."

Steve barely gave Peggy a chance to reply before he soldiered on, lightly squeezing her hands, cupped between both his large ones. "Look, Pegs, I can't... I can't apologise enough for everything you've had to go through the last 70 years alone. I know," Steve paused, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as he stared at their hands, unable to meet her gaze. "I know that _something_ had to have happened, and pretty early on from the looks of it, for you to, well," he huffed in amusement, trying to find the right words, "for you to look as young as you do now."

Before continuing on, he finally looked up, trying to read whatever emotions might flicker across Peggy's expression, before reaching out, lightly brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb, as if he needed to ground himself in the reality that she really was _here_.

"Whatever happened Peg," he paused, his voice dropped to a whisper as he leant forward, his grip on her hands tightening in one hand as the other slipped under her chin, " _whatever_ happened, know that I will always be here for you. I should have been there then, but I wasn't, so I will make _damn_ well sure I'm there now."


	16. Peggy

Seventy three years, two months, two weeks, six days, twenty three hours and fifty minutes, if we're counting, she thought but knew she would never bring herself to say, a glassy sheen covering her eyes. Her smile softened at the corners and her eyes brimmed with tears but didn't overflow. Hearing him say her name in person meant so much more than those letters on a screen. She waited in silence as he spoke, letting his voice wash over her. His hands were gentle on her skin, his touch present and warm.

As his hand tightened around hers, she saw his own tears forming. He mustn't blame himself! She evenly inhaled despite the panic of her thought. She tightened her hold on him in return. Nothing would take this away.

"1948," she murmured under her breath. Ever since she had first gotten back in touch with him, she had known this conversation was coming. She'd just hoped they might have a little more time. She didn't want to break his heart like hers had been. "One of Howard's bloody experiments." She sucked in a breath and forced herself to keep smiling, lowering her head to blink away tears. She caught sight of the package left alone on the table. She itched for it to be held! "Open it," she instructed him, nodding at it subtly. She needed to see him smile again before she could explain any further.


	17. Steve

1948.

Nineteen Forty-Eight.

70 years ago.

 _Exactly_ Seventy years ago.

Seventy years ago, Peggy went through one of _Howard Stark's_ experiments. What was she thinking? What was he thinking? Was anyone thinking at all?

With his mind reeling, he only faintly registered Peggy's nod towards the package that had been left and forgotten on the table, to the side. Thoughts still floating around what _possibly_ could have happened (did they figure out the formula to Erskine's serum?) he tenderly unwrapped the cloth and string used to wrap the parcel. As the cloth fell away, beneath it was a notebook, bound in leather, so old, yet so tenderly cared for, and so _incredibly_ familiar to Steve. Mouth gaping, he glanced up at the breathtaking woman before him, and back at the notebook, blinking, as if to try and wake from a dream, before finally sighing in contentment. When he spoke, it was less than a whisper, merely a sigh.

" _Peggy_."


	18. Peggy

She fought a shiver as he said her name. I'll never get used to this, she thought as a warmth burst in her chest. Seeing the notebook returned to him, it was like it was whole again. It was like _he_ was whole again. Or as whole as she could help him be. Her foot gently nudged his leg under the table as she shifted in her seat. With a sharp intake of breath she glanced around, heart pounding. All clear. She looked back to him, fighting the blush she felt creeping up as he delicately held the notebook and flicked through the pages. They were well worn with her late nights thumbing through them. She heard his phone buzz in his pocket, but he seemed so enthralled in the short stroll down memory lane, he ignored it.

"I thought you should have it back, since you are back," she spoke softly. "I didn't know if you'd have wanted it to go with your other belongings to the Smithsonian." She ducked her head and wrung her hands together. That wasn't entirely true... "It felt too... personal... they wanted Captain America but this..." She pointed at the notebook in his hands. "... this was- _is_ Steve Rogers'." _The last of Steve Rogers._ She swallowed down the lump in her throat. He was back, she had no need to cling to the memories anymore yet still she had to fight to pry her grip from them. They could make new memories. Happy ones, together again at last.

She let out a sigh and relaxed her hands in her lap under the table, calming herself thinking over all the escape routes she had devised and the fastest way to access each of her weapons from where and how she was presently sat. It would be alright.


	19. Steve

Flicking through the well worn pages, something, a feeling, almost like a bubble, swelled inside Steve's chest, itching, _aching,_ to burst. So many of his things had either been on display in the Smithsonian, or in the box that had been held in SHIELD's storage, but _never_ did he imagine he'd see his sketchbook again. He was sure others would view it as something unimportant or irrelevant, but many forgot that before he was a soldier, he was an artist. He could never-

Steve's thoughts were broken off by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. Electing to ignore it, he continued to browse through it, taking a trip down mem-

Once again, Steve's phone broke his train of thought. "I really should turn that thing off," he muttered as he slipped his phone from his pocket to between his thigh and the chair. Hoping that the buzzing would cease for _one moment_ Steve flipped to the back of the sketchbook. There, amongst the scattered blank pages were drawings; not just any sketch, but those of a child's. It wasn't the drawings themselves that caught Steve's eye, however, it was the name that signed them in the bottom right corners.

Gabriel Steven Carter.

Before, he was able to question Peggy any further, his phone buzzed once again. Finally giving in a picking it up, he noticed _many_ unread messages from Clint Barton.

Shoving his phone into his pocket, he rose from the seat. "I'm sorry Pegs, I have to take this; he won't leave me alone until I get back to him. After which, how about you tell me about _Gabriel_." With a sense of finality, Steve rushed to the bathrooms, muttering to himself.

_Bloody hell Barton._


	20. Peggy

_Gabriel_.

She stared at his retreating figure, her smile gone completely. How had he known? How long? Did he blame her for Howard's stupid idea? That she hadn't been able to keep him alive? Oh god oh god oh shitshitshit fuck! She clenched her hands until her nails bit into her palms. Steve had gone. Left her. And hell, why should he stay? There were billions of other women younger and smarter and prettier than her. Who needed Peggy Carter, glorified secretary anymore?

She slid further into the booth away from prying eyes, forcing back tears. It was over. Her last chance. Gone.


	21. Clint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special guest appearance from @picnokinesis!

Clint waited in the establishments single disabled toilet, slouched in the corner and glaring angrily at the door, which hadn't opened since he'd slipped in. What did Cap think he was _doing_? The man had been MIA since landing stateside, where presumably he'd been almost captured and forced to run - and now he was going on dates and _dancing_?

He sighed, wishing he could say he was overreacting - but he'd seen the woman Steve was currently chatting with earlier, around lunchtime, eating out with _Tony Stark_. And before he knew exactly who she was and what her aim was, he needed Cap to know there was a chance she couldn't be trusted.There were other things he had to him too - things about Scott Lang and Stark - but the damn man was _ignoring his phone_.

Just as he began to seriously consider getting his bow out and following up on his earlier threat, the bathroom door swung open.


	22. Steve

Storming into the bathroom, Steve was quick to lock the door, before spinning back around to face the man, cramming himself into what has _got_ to be the most uncomfortable corner. He could feel his blood boiling. Seventy years he's waited for tonight and now he has to deal with _this_?

"Barton! What on _Earth_ could be so important that it couldn't wait until the morning?" Steve's voice, though he tried to contain it to a whisper, was gradually rising, cracking on the final word. "Do you, do you know who that is out there? Do you know how long I've waiting for tonight?"

It took everything in Steve not to hit something, he could feel is rage bubbling and brewing, only tempered by the image of Peggy's face as he stormed off, ashy as if all life had been drained from her, shock and horror intermixed with pain and hurt. Never, in all the years he'd known her, _never_ had he seen her be so openly emotional.


	23. Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one is happy.

If Clint hadn't been trained to deal with this sort of thing, he would have balked at the captain's sudden anger. Instead he just pulled out his phone and shoved it near Steve's face to make him _look_ the photo he'd taken earlier - of this woman with Stark.

"Do _you_ know who that is out there? Because this was the fine company she had earlier. I was going to tell you when we met with Sam and Nat but then you went AWOL so I never got the chance - but Stark is looking for you. He came to try and get info out of me about a week or so ago, just after Tønsberg. As for what's more _important_ than your little date," Clint snapped, keeping his voice down, but making no effort to keep the anger out if his terse tone. "Wanda got broken out of the Avengers facility, Scott Lang is missing, Stark's got an Infinity Stone, I got found out for breaking house arrest and contacting Nat, so _I'm_ in hiding now as well and I haven't got a _clue_ what's going on any more other than Nat asking about what I knew on the stones. But by all means, go back to your dance, if it's so important."


	24. Steve

When Clint shoved the phone in Steve's face, he was really taking a risk with Steve as tense as he was. It was the image on the phone that caused Steve to tense. There, in front of him was a photo of Peggy - it was _undeniably_ Peggy - having lunch with, _was that Stark_? So engrossed in the image before him - they can have lunch, can't they? - he almost missed Clint's, _response_.

"I know Stark is looking for me, that's _why_ I went AWOL." Through gritted teeth, Steve inhaled sharply - Peggy probably spent a lot of time with Howard over the years, it'd make sense that she and Tony would have history - before he stopped, breath hitching. "Wait, back up a second. _Scott_ is missing, _Stark_ has an infinity stone, _Wanda_ is on the run, and _you're_ on the run, and _no one_ thought to contact me about this?" Steve's fits clenched in an attempt to calm himself, control his anger, his shock. "I've been speaking to Sam these last few days, it's not like I've been _unreachable_."

Taking a step back, Steve realised he had been getting _dangerously_ close to Clint. Taking a deep breath and speaking in a softer voice, he continued, almost completely relaxed. "Barton, tha-that woman out there, that's Peggy Carter. You've read the files - I'm sure you have. Now for some reason, she doesn't look like she's aged a day since I last saw her and can you really blame me for not wanted to look a gift horse in the mouth? I've been given a second chance with, with someone I never thought I'd see again, so please, by all means, excuse me for indulging myself for one night, after 70 years of putting the world first."


	25. Clint

He knew the way he'd made Cap look at the phone could have easily backfired considering how angry the other man was, but the gamble paid off. Steve immediately looked at the photo, and Clint could see that he was starting to take this a little more seriously. His reaction confirmed his suspicions too - the woman he was with now was definitely the same woman he'd seen earlier. He'd only seen her from a distance earlier that day, and he hadn't even been looking for her this evening - he'd been looking for Cap.

He bristled at Steve's response. "I think you focusing on the wrong thing here but _yes_ , you _were_ unreachable, we lost contact with you for at least two days. And I don't know why Sam didn't tell you all this when he got through to you but like I _said_ , I've been on the run. I haven't exactly had much chance."

But he sighed and left it as Steve took a step back, clearly realising how close they'd gotten. But as the captain continued to speak, Clint looked straight at him, disbelieving. _Peggy Carter?_ The founder of SHIELD? There was no way in _hell_ she could still be alive.

"Steve," he started, feeling a jolt of sympathy for the man who had done so much and yet it never seemed to be enough. Cap had earned the life he craved ten times over, and yet he could never catch a break - not even for one night. "That _can't_ be her - it doesn't make any sense. And yeah, I've read her files - they say she _died_ in 1948 from medical complications, just after being discharged from SHIELD. And I'm sorry, Steve, I really am but unless something really _messed up_ is going on, that woman out there? That's not Peggy Carter."


	26. Steve

"That's not Peggy Carter."

Ever since he lay eyes on her at the start of the night, that line had been bouncing around inside his head. It was one thing to think it himself, but to hear it out loud... Steve shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Clint was right, he was focusing on the wrong point.

_Focus Steve, focus._

But that was the issue, no matter how hard he tried to focus on the issue at hand - _Tony had an Infinity Stone_ \- his mind always went back to Peggy.

1948.

"That's not Peggy Carter."

Tony has an Infinity Stone.

Scott is missing.

Clint and Wanda are on the run. Stepping back until he was pressed back against the door, Steve slid down to the floor, fingers clenching the roots of his hair. Why wouldn't his mind just _stop_ just a for a moment. What happened in 1948? Was it all one big issue, or was it all one big coincidence that it was all happening at once. No. There's no such thing as a coincidence, not anymore.

Finally taking in a deep shuddering breath, he finally chanced a glance up at Clint who stood stoically, patiently, waiting for him to collect himself. Breathing deeply once again, Steve decided that he'd need to attack one issue at a time.

How the _fuck_ did Barton get those photos?


	27. Clint

Clint wished he could have been more gentle, but he didn't have much choice. He needed to get Cap to _understand_ , and _fast_ , because right now they all needed him more than ever. But as he watched the torrent of emotions flicker across his face - anger and pain and everything in between - he had the grace to feel more than a little guilty.

He said nothing as the man that represented strength and fortitude to a whole nation crumpled before him. He almost made to move, wondering if he should sit by the man who had started as his teammate but was now a friend. Instead he let Steve Rogers be, giving him a moment to pull the pieces of himself back together. He should let the man have his own pride if he couldn't give him anything else.

But when the captain looked up with a fierce determination in his eyes, looking _directly_ at him, Clint took in a breath, knowing the Cap's first line of attack would be aimed at _him_.


	28. Steve

When Steve’s steady glare met that of Clint’s, he noticed the flicker of guilt - _and was that fear_ \- in his eyes. Part of Steve felt uneasy that interaction between the two of them had come to this, after all, it was less than a year ago that they fought side-by-side in Berlin. But the events of Berlin made him all the more wary - when you think you can trust someone, they go and stab you in the back.

All these thoughts happened in less than a second, and Steve refused to let them consume him.

One issue at a time.

_One issue at a time._

“Barton, you have one chance - _one chance_ \- to tell me exactly how and why you got these photos. That woman out there,” Steve paused when he realised his voice had been getting dangerously loud, remembering they were still in a public bathroom. “That woman out there **is** Peggy Carter, or I’ve got to believe. She said that in 1948 - the year that her records say she died - she went through one of Howard Stark’s experimental procedures. As you _so kindly_ interrupted before I could get the chance to let her explain, how about you be a person, not a spy or assassin, for once, and simply _ask her_ what happened.”


	29. Clint

Clint sighed. He should have anticipated this question. He decided to tell the truth - there wasn't really any benefit in lying and far too much risk of it ending badly. He tried to speak calmly in an attempt to reel the conversation back under his control, because he could _not_ afford a confrontation right now, or anything that could get him noticed by anyone in this place other than Steve. At the moment, his anonymity and his skills were his only protection.

"I was just in NYC," he said, "I've been here the last few days - trying to get intel on Stark since I got those weird messages from Scott. I tailed him when he went out this lunchtime and met with...Peggy. I had no idea who she was, but they had a long and rather animated conversation so I figured she was someone important to him - maybe she knew something. I followed her to see where she went, see if I could figure out who she is. She went to a cemetery not far from here - looked at the graves of an Angela Martinelli and a Gabriel Steven Carter. Then she went - I don't know where, because I decided it was time to go and find _you_. I _didn't_ expect to find her here _dancing_ with you."

But what Cap had said about 1948 concerned him. "I've never heard about Stark conducting experiments on agents. Although if I'm honest, I wouldn't be entirely surprised if it had happen, especially now we know there were HYDRA agents influencing from within SHIELD from the very beginning." He then considered the last thing Steve had said - about being _human_. A large part of him felt like he didn't have the luxury to be a 'person' right now - not with so much at stake. But the small part of him that knew otherwise spoke stronger, and he looked Steve right in the eyes. "I _am_ a person - that's all we've really got left to keep us all going, you know. So I _am_ a spy and an assassin, and I need to do my _job_ so I can protect the people you and I both care about and be the kind of person I can stand to face in the mirror each morning. So if it's _alright with you_ , I'll let you go and talk to your girl while I listen from a _distance_ \- because I don't think she's exactly going to spill all her secrets if you drag me in there with you."


	30. Steve

At the sharp knock, both men within the single-room bathroom froze, and simultaneously turned to face the offending sound.

“Steve,” Peggy’s voice called through the door.

Silently, Steve violently waved his hands, trying to get Clint to hide. In return, he received a questioning glance - there wasn’t really anywhere _to_ hide. Just as Steve turned his back, he tensed as he heard Clint sigh, followed by a thump and muted swearing. He could only pray that the master assassin hadn’t been heard by the woman on the other side.

_Too late._

Shooting a quick glare at the man now huddled on the toilet seat, Steve moved to unlock the door. In the time it took to take two steps towards the door, Steve felt as if World War Two was happening all over again inside his head. Emotions and thoughts racing, Steve mentally scolded himself; he didn’t have _time_ to be emotional.

Suppressing the nerves, he inhaled.

_Did he mess up with Peggy?_

Suppressing his anger at Clint, he exhaled.

_This could have waited until after._

Suppressing his guilt, he clenched his jaw.

_Should he be blaming Clint at all?_

Suppressing his self-loathing, he took one step forward.

_This is not his fault._

Suppressing his fear, he grasped the door handle.

_“That’s not Peggy Carter.”_

Suppressing his regret, he unlocked the door.

_“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your-”_

The door clicked.


	31. Peggy

The soft click of the door unlocking was her cue. Peggy shoved through with all her might, surveying the small space in an instant, gun trained between the eyeballs of the man she assumed to be there for Steve. Well, he wasn't going to get him. 

_ Over my dead body. _

She stared cooly down the barrel pointed back at her. But he didn't shoot. He had all the bearing of an assassin. In fact in a heartbeat he could probably kick the gun from her grasp. 

So why didn't he? 

Peggy’s eyes flicked to read his face and noticed the electric devices by his ears. They were small. Could radios be that small? She pondered. But the arrangement appeared more to assist hearing. Or they could just be bugs wired to listen in to anything he heard. Until she knew it wasn't the latter, she wasn't risking her voice. 

Peggy shoved the notebook and drawings into Steve’s arms and held up one hand. It had been a while since she had used ASL to communicate but if he signed slowly she would understand. 

<<hearing aid>> she fingerspelled and pointed to her ear then at him in question, still pointing the gun at him. 


	32. Clint

Clint reacted immediately, glad that he’d already had his hand on his gun as he drew his weapon at the same moment their assailant drew hers. But now he’d gotten a clear view of her face, he couldn’t deny that she was the spitting image of Peggy Carter, whose face he’d seen in so many photos from his days as a trainee agent. He could understand why Steve thought she was the real deal, but she just _couldn’t_  be. He caught himself - was it so impossible? After all, he’d already had a conversation tonight with someone from the 1940s. But he’d been _frozen_ _,_  and had had the serum - how could she…?

Unless Steve had been right, and Howard Stark _had_ been conducting experiments. But how could it keep her so young? And what else could she do? And more importantly could they  _trust_ her?

He almost pulled the trigger when she moved so suddenly, but he quickly realised she was just thrusting the pile in her arms towards Steve, keeping her gun trained on him the whole time. Then, to his complete surprise, she started signing at him carefully in the ASL alphabet, asking about his hearing aids. He frowned, keeping his weapon steady as he signed back with one hand with the movements that felt as natural to him as speaking.  

<<yes>>. He gave her a confused look to convey his bewilderment at the question.


	33. Peggy & Clint

When she saw him respond in the same language she tried to contain her sigh of relief as nothing more than a gentle exhale.

<<radio>> She fingerspelled and pointed at him again, eyebrows furrowed in question. Whether that was the correct expression in ASL she wasn't sure, but it did often signify a question in Auslan which she was more accustomed to signing. Hopefully he got the message.

 

* * *

 

He frowned again, and then quickly realised what she was asking. She wanted to know if his hearing aid was also a radio. It wasn’t - he did have a few like that, which he’d used frequently while working at SHIELD. But at the moment he couldn’t risk any chance of the device being hacked or traced in any way, and so the one currently in his ear only served it’s original, intended purpose.

Her signing had seemed a little clumsy and uncomfortable, so instead of signing no, he just shook his head. He still hadn’t lowered his gun - if she seemed to be as paranoid as he was, there was still a significant chance she would try to use her weapon. He quickly glance at Cap, seeing his confused expression and realising, with a hint of amusement, that the other man wasn't getting _any_ of the signed conversation.


	34. Steve

When Peggy burst through the door, Steve was more than a little surprised - though he shouldn’t have been - particularly when she pulled a gun from under the skirt of her dress, pointing it straight at Clint without hesitation. Steve’s gaze was more than a little apprehensive as it bounced between the two people in front of him, Clint now with a gun of his own pointed back at Peggy. When he saw Peggy’s eyes narrow impossibly further, he was quick to catch the notebook that was thrust into his chest. 

The exchange of flurried hand gestures that could only be sign language caused Steve to sigh deeply.  _ You’ve known Clint for 6 years _ , he scolded himself,  _ you should have learnt this by now _ . Giving up all hope of trying to understand them, he ushered Peggy forward slightly, just enough to slip the door closed behind her. 

Clearing his throat, Steve attempted to gain the attention of the two people in the small, and slightly cramped bathroom, to no avail. Deeply sighing, he stepped between the two of them, reaching out and placing a hand on the barrel of their guns, nudging them down. “Now, I don’t know what either of you might have just said, but I do know that the guns are completely unnecessary.” His gaze flickering between the two, he almost missed Clint rolling his eyes, but he definitely did not miss the sound of Peggy scoffing.

Ignoring their responses, Steve forged on. “Both of you, lower your guns and we can talk like people, ex-SHIELD Agents.” He paused, waiting to see if he had their attention. When Peggy finally started to lower her gun, he dropped his hands, hopeful as he watched Clint began to do the same. Exhaling in relief, he forged on, electing to ignore the tense grips both still had on their weapons. “Clint, this is Peggy Carter. Peggy, this is Clint Barton, he’s a... he’s a friend.” 


	35. Peggy

A… friend?

She kept her eyes on the stranger, Clint Barton. Steve didn't seemed threatened by his presence despite the fact that they were in a bathroom and the man had a gun and he was ex-SHIELD… _oh. Oooooh._ A _friend._

“Steve, you should have told me you'd met someone,” Peggy said softly, still staring the man down with her steely gaze. Well, from what she had seen she couldn't fault his taste. Athletic, smart to get into the club unnoticed, and hopefully of decent character since he had left SHIELD. “Should I leave you boys to what you were doing or will Clint be joining us?” She raised a single eyebrow and cast a glance at Steve as he shuffled uneasily. Had he expected her not to approve?

“Steve, it's alright, if you make each other happy, who am I to judge?” _I was the idiot to wait all these years to find you after I heard you were back. I had Angie, it's only fair you be allowed to love too._


	36. Clint

Clint couldn’t help but smirk as Peggy plowed on under a mistaken assumption, with Steve becoming more awkward with each passing second. He almost didn’t want to stop them, amusing as it was, but as he’d said to Cap before - there were significantly more pressing matters that concerned all of them.

“As much as I’m sure Steve wants to carry on,“ Clint said, steadfastly ignoring the withering glare he was sure Cap was giving him to stare straight at the woman in front of him, “You’ve got some questions to answer. You can’t be Peggy Carter - she’s been _dead_ for seventy _years_. So either you can tell us who you really are and what the hell you want, or we can go back to pointing guns at each other and actually start using them.”


	37. Peggy

“I say I'm not telling you a damned thing,” she snapped. She bristled and looked about the room in disgust. “I am not having that conversation in the bathroom.” Her eyes settled on the notebook resting by the sink.

_ All I need is for Steve to believe me. _

Her eyes flitted up to his face. If he didn't believe she was Peggy Carter, well… then staying would be a waste of time. 

“Surely that is evidence enough that I am me?” she challenged, nodding to the notebook. “And if you don't want Gabriel’s drawings, I most absolutely do.” She added. She clenched her jaw to force back the tears that threatened when she spoke her son’s name. “I had hoped you might accept him as your son, but I guess I misjudged you.” _At least Gabriel didn't have to go through losing his father twice._ She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying the words or from crying. The pain had been hers alone since Angie died. It was no business of either of theirs. She didn't need Steve Rogers. Peggy Carter could carry on perfectly well.

Alone.


	38. Steve

“I had hoped you might accept him as your son”

Son.

_Son_.

Opening and closing his mouth, trying to speak but utterly at loss for words, choking on every sound that tried to escape. Squeezing his eyes shut in a mixture of confusion and hurt, as well as an attempt to wrap his head around the fact that he had a _son_.

_Or did he?_

Last he checked, he hadn’t slept with anyone, particularly pre-capsicle phase, as Stark liked to call it.

Stark.

Howard.

The Experiment.

_What the fuck was Howard thinking?_ Steve knew that Howard had wanted to replicate the Super Serum - he’d died for it - but impregnating? He was lost for words, how could he stoop so low?

Finally, after a moment of tense silence, Steve spoke, his voice cracking as he did so. “My son? _Gabriel_ is my son? I…” His voice broke off again as he watched Peggy turn her head away in, was that shame? “Peggy, I swear I- I-” he broke off, unable to voice his regret. Instinctively, Steve reached out, as if to touch her shoulder, draw her into a hug, find _some way_ to take away the pain that was so evident on her face, in her body, in the way she held herself. Thinking back to when he stormed into the bathroom and left her, he began to mentally kick himself - this was twice in the span of 10 minutes that he had caused someone so strong to show cracks that he had never seen before.

What had anyone ever done to deserve this?


	39. Clint

“Was,” Clint corrected quietly, looking at the tiled bathroom floor. “He _was_ your son.” His eyes flicked back to Peggy with a surge of intense guilt. If everything she was saying was true, the scene he’d witnessed earlier that day - the flowers, the tears, the dates on the graves - made so much more sense. “That was his grave you visited, wasn’t it. The one with the sunflowers.”


	40. Peggy

The brush of Steve’s hand startled her into flinching back. It wasn't that she was mad at him, well she _was_ mad, but having someone offer comfort when she was upset… it had been a while.

Then his _friend_ had said it.

_The one with the sunflowers._

She snapped, spinning to hit him with a right hook but he was fast, faster than her in her emotion fuelled fury, and dodged with ease. He didn't strike back. She couldn't bear to look in his eyes. She didn't want his pity.

“I need a drink,” she spat in a gravelly tone and stalked out of the bathroom, slamming the door just a little too loud.

In the few strides of the corridor she gathered her composure.

_Someone_ _**had**_ _been watching her earlier._

_Could she trust him?_

_Steve did._

_Or seemed to._

She plastered on an indifferent distant smile of a lifetime’s practice as she came to the main room, beelining to the bar. Before she spoke, she swallowed down to make sure the lump in her throat didn't alter her voice.

“Scotch, neat,” she ordered. The bartender gave her the drink and she paid with cash before going back to the booth. The burn of the liquor helped warm away the brunt of the numbing chill trying to settle over her. She waited to see if either man had the guts to go out and face her.


	41. Steve

_Was_.

_Sunflowers_.

_Grave._

So caught up in his thoughts, he wasn’t fast enough to block the punch that Peggy threw at Clint - not that he would have tried anyway, he was over the line. It was the echoing slam of the bathroom door that finally brought him to.

_Peggy, or Clint?_

He was torn. He knew that he wanted to go after Peggy, but he also knew that Clint was well and truly out of line. Steve took a deep breath in an attempt to cool his boiling blood. It didn’t help. Clint it was. If Peggy was anything like him at the moment, he’d need to give her some time to cool down. Clint didn’t have that luxury. Offhandedly, Steve wondered if he’d be able to ask Stark to lend him a few hundred for any needed repairs.

Closing his eyes, Steve silently turned around, fists clenching as he did so.


	42. Clint

Clint was still in a defensive stance, having been ready to dodge anymore attacks from Peggy but not willing to attack her himself. But she had surprised him and left, slamming the door shut with a bang that sounded loud even to his ears.

The moment she was gone, he eyed Steve with a little nervousness, knowing his joking earlier followed by his arguably tactless comments would have only increased his anger from before. The other man’s fierce frown and clenching of fists only confirmed it. Dammit. He wouldn’t ever want to fight Steve at the best of times - aside from him being his _friend_ , Clint also wasn’t stupid. Despite his brilliant fighting skills, there was no way he’d get away from a fist-fight with Captain America without a significant number of bruises - bruises he simply couldn’t deal with right now.

_Dammit_.

He needed to get the situation somewhat back under control, and then he needed to get the hell out of there. Right at that moment, he missed Nat so badly. She could smooth talked her way out of any situation, and this would have been no different. But he was alone. He figured there was a high chance he wasn’t going to get away from this without taking a hit or two. Possibly he deserved that.

_Dammit, Barton_ , he scolded himself. _Say something!_

“Steve look, I’m sorry, but - I was just trying to keep everyone safe, man. Including you. You’ve got to see that, right?”


	43. Steve

It was if he were underwater. Steve knew that Clint was talking, but he was unable to hear anything he said over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. He could feel himself tensing; one by one, every muscle in his body tightened, as if he were a coil, waiting to be let loose. He could feel his jaw tightening, clenching, his teeth grinding against each other; shoulders stiffening and heaving as his breaths came in hot puffs through flared nostrils. He could feel his lips thinning, in a weak attempt to bite back his anger.

Steve was so tense, he could feel himself shaking with the effort.

He could feel all of this, and yet he didn’t even try to quell the anger and rage, brewing in his blood. Instead, he _relished_ in it.

With a guttural roar, he lunged forward, the tightened spring finally exploding forward, his fist flying through the wall, not an inch from Clint’s face. In that moment, Steve pulled his fist from where it was buried in the wall, inhaled deeply, and left the bathroom, a stunned Clint in his wake, shrouded in plaster dust.

Pausing at the door, he glance back only to scoop up the old notebook, with much more care and grace a man of his size, strength, and temper, should possess, before continuing on. He has to make amends with Peggy.


	44. Clint

“ _ You’ve got to see that, right?” _

The second the words were off his lips, he  _ knew  _ it had been the wrong thing to say - if Cap had even heard him beneath his anger. With an abruptness that startled Clint despite his training, Steve charged at him with a yell of fury, pressing him back into the corner of the small room. Then there was impact -  the rush of air past his cheek, the cracking of plaster, the explosion of sound in his hearing aids before there was nothing but the sound of their breathing - Steve’s a deep inhale, Clint’s short and shuddering. For a moment, Clint thought the other man might actually hit him, but instead he turned and left without a word, leaving him alone to choke on the dust that still hung in the air. 

Clint leaned over and coughed, anxiously glancing at the door almost as though he half expected Steve to come back in and - but that was stupid. Cap was a better man than him. They were done. Maybe for a long while.  _ Great job, Barton _ .  _ Nice one. _

But damn, he’d never seen the man that angry - hurting so deeply that he was utterly consumed by his rage. It disturbed him. Despite his regret for how he’d handled this entire incident, he still stood by the reason he’d sought Cap out in the first place. They  _ needed _ him back in the game. If he was getting like this…

Clint shook his head. Damn, this was a mess. 

He moved out of the bathroom, which thankfully had been located near the back of the building. He quickly found the window he’d used to sneak in initially, looked over his shoulder to check he was clear - he was - and then paused, some ugly emotion twisting in his gut. Then he slipped through the window and out of sight. 


	45. Peggy

Peggy stared into her glass as the music failed to drown out the sounds of anguish. A loud crack and… she shuddered at the noise that she knew was somehow Steve’s. Damn, this was a mess. Raising the glass to her lips, she sipped, letting the scotch sit on her tongue until footsteps started towards her. 

“I heard that,” she murmured as Steve took his seat opposite her in the booth once more, clasping the notebook carefully in both hands like it was a priceless fragile irreplaceable artefact. Which, to them, it was. “I hope your boyfriend is still in one piece.” She knocked back the rest of the glass and set it on the table with a sigh, all the while not meeting his eye. 

Instead she stared at his hands, clenched until his knuckles were white yet not damaging the book. One hand had a light coating of white powder. Producing a handkerchief, she tenderly removed his hand from the notebook and dusted off the powder. 

With all the world gone mad, at least one tiny little thing could be right. 

She curled her fingers into his. Tucking the handkerchief away, she squeezed his hand ever so gently. He had come through for her. And she would never ever forget that. 


End file.
